Truth
by Pipsy
Summary: Some questions will never be answered and some secrets will never be told. Reid has more in common with Morgan than he wants to remember. Two-shot; tag to "Profiler, Profiled", missing scene for "Memoriam".
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note-** see profile. Also, this scene takes place immediately after the events of "Profiler, Profiled" while the team is flying back to Quantico from Chicago and Morgan is attending the boy's funeral.

**Disclaimer-** I don't own "Criminal Minds" or any of its characters; no copyright or trademark infringement is intended and I make no profit from this work of fanfiction.

**Warnings-** This story contains depictions of **child rape** and **child abuse** of a major character that may be disturbing to some readers- if child rape is a subject you are sensitive to, **do not read **or skip the third paragraph, which contains most of the rape flashback. To a lesser extent, paragraph seven also contains events immediately preceding the main assault. These paragraphs are marked with asterisks; however, the entire story is about child rape so, again, if you're not comfortable with the subject matter, _please don't read!_

**Truth**

Reid stared out the window of the jet at the clouds passing beneath and above, cocooning them in a world of fluffy whiteness, his forehead resting tiredly on the glass and his breath creating small circles of fog. The rest of the team was either asleep or occupied with their own mild forms of amusement, all endeavoring to evade or sort out their muddled thoughts and emotions about the latest case- Morgan's case. Carl Buford and the children he'd killed, the children he'd raped- the revelation that Morgan had been one of them. It certainly explained a lot on a psychological level; for instance Morgan's behavior towards women and his casual way of flirting or "dating", if it could really be called that at all. Buford's treatment of Morgan had scarred him and rented his views on relationships- his trust with sex and the emotional closeness that was supposed to precede it in any real union- and it had made Morgan self-reliant and closed off, even though his deep compassion and empathy had been enhanced for what he'd been through.

The psychological effects of child abuse and rape were well known to Reid and to every profiler on the plane and he sighed heavily, closing his eyes and trying to hide from the deep hurt that wanted to assail him from within because, however selfishly, his thoughts weren't really with Morgan at all. Did it make Reid feel any better to know that another team member had been there, too? Experienced that horror and violation? Did it bring them any closer or provide any comfort? Or was it just another reminder of the evil that pervaded the world and that Spencer seemed unable to escape; every corner he went around, it always found him there?

*Reid shifted, drawing his arms about himself tighter in a self-imposed hug that failed to make him feel any safer or ward off the memory that came rushing back- hands and breath and sweat, his cries of pain and the other man's groans of ecstasy that were timed together, the cold metal pole between his shoulders and the man's hot body flush against his as he was held in a strong embrace and his attacker buried his face in the crook of Spencer's neck... He'd thought that night would never end and, each time he'd thought he knew the horror of it, it somehow got worse.

Harper Hillman had started it, pulling him from the library to meet Lexa Lisban. Although she'd been there, she'd not been alone and the football team had beat him and name-called him and torn his clothes from his body, laughing and mocking him and driving their boots into his ribs and their spit into his eyes. Once tied to the pole, a red marker had been pulled out and the word "FREAK" scrawled on his chest in bold letters, and the abuse continued with more harsh mockery- not the least of which were about his "psycho mom" and his dad who couldn't even stand him- and they began throwing food and garbage at him and then "hosing him off" by urinating on him. He'd cried and begged for help, but the tinkling sound of Lexa Lisban's laughter had been his only answer.

Finally, they had tired of their sport and left, Spencer still bound and shivering as they'd tossed his clothes in every direction- some out of reach on top of the goal post- and the fear he'd had of being with them had turned into the terror of being alone as darkness crept in. Hours had passed- slowly and silently- and Spencer's shoulders had ached in their wrenched position as he'd battled against the insults that still rang in his ears and throbbed in his body, wishing their mockery was less true and telling himself they were wrong to treat him like he was less than they were; less than human. He wasn't. He had potential and intelligence and- physically inferior or not- _he was not weak!_

Tears had slid down his cheeks as he'd stood awkwardly tied to the post, his head bowed with fatigue and pain, but then he'd heard the soft approach of footsteps on grass. Looking up, his first tangled feelings to see the lone jock walking deliberately toward him had been a mixture of suspicion and relief; he had to be coming back to untie him, right? Not hurt him more? Neither boy nor teenager had said anything as the distance between them shrank, but the jock had had an odd expression in his eyes as he'd looked at the nude form of Spencer, and it had made Spencer shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny...

*The jock's name was Mark Maloney and he'd been the only one of the football players to hang back and simply observe as his friends had tormented the twelve-year-old, and Spencer had thought briefly that he might not have approved. When Maloney was directly in front of him, he'd finally dared to ask if the teenager was going to release him, only to have a hand placed on his chest. Spencer had been unsure what he was doing and his confusion had only grown when the hand slowly began to circle his chest and then go down. Maloney's fingers had rippled against his bony ribs as they'd passed over his body, slowly and attentively, going down. And down...

Reid opened his eyes as his jaw flexed, trying vainly not to remember the rest. The fear. The pain. The helplessness... Every moment had been seared into Reid's memory, every sound and movement and feeling and horror forever etched into his mind and hidden away in a dark corner filled with other atrocities and turmoil he dared not look upon. They were there- indelibly a part of him- but he strove never to revisit those places unless forced to by necessity or to achieve some greater understanding of those events and, even then, it was dangerous.

His palms were sweaty and his heart was pounding but, to the outside observer, Reid looked calm and controlled and maybe a little weary, but nothing worse. Inside, his stomach was churning and he felt a burning cold encompassing his body as he stared out the window at the clouds with an almost hostile determination. _He didn't want to think about it, he didn't want to..._

Maybe the worst part of that wretched night- okay, not the _worst_, but definitely up there and one of the things that had haunted him most in the days and years that followed- was that Maloney _never said anything_. Ever. From the time he came back onto the football field and began molesting the helpless boy, to the time he walked away- Spencer freed from his bonds and shaking on the ground as he desperately tried to find his clothes through the darkness and his tears- Mark Maloney never uttered a single syllable. He'd been completely silent- with the exception of his harsh breathing in Spencer's ear- and he'd never once threatened the boy in any way; he'd never told him not to move or to be quiet before or during the assault, or not to tell anyone about it after. He'd just left, brisk satisfied strides carrying him off the field without a backwards glance to the boy who's life he'd just shattered... _Nothing._

Had it been so obvious that any fight Spencer would- and did- put up would be useless, that his cries would never reach anyone's ears? Granted, it had been in the dead of night and in the middle of an empty football field, but still... And what about afterwards? How could Maloney have been so sure that Spencer wouldn't say anything to anyone, so as not to even issue a warning to be quiet just in case? There had been plenty of forensic and physical evidence left behind- Maloney hadn't exactly been careful- and it wouldn't have taken much to nail him in court and send him to prison for a good chunk of his life...

And yet, he'd said nothing.

Reid wished he could be more confused by it but, really, it was rather obvious why and how Maloney had known it wouldn't be necessary to threaten him, and the young profiler closed his eyes as his mom's face flashed before them with a tidal wave of repressed emotions blanketing him. His mom had counted on him for _everything_ after his dad had left- the bills, the laundry, the groceries, the housework, getting her out of bed and dressed and fed and keeping her appointments... the list went on and on. Without him, her life would have fallen apart more than it already had. He was the only thing she had left- even her mind had failed her- and she was the only person he had in his life. She was_ his _responsibility.

If he'd reported the assault or told anyone what had happened, sooner or later it would have become apparent to the police and powers-that-be that Diana Reid could not care for herself, let alone a child. The mere fact that she'd not even realized that her son was missing the night he'd been brutalized and raped would have proved that almost instantly and Spencer would have been removed from her custody and his mom declared unfit. Then she would have either ended up in an institution against her will or living alone without anyone to take care of her- how long would she have lasted then?- and Spencer would have been put in foster care until he came of age, his plans to start at Cal Tech that year derailed as he was forced to relive a night he just wanted to forget to hundreds of people in court- and possibly again to nosy therapists- for years to come.

Spencer had wanted to tell someone- anyone- about what Mark Maloney had done and what he was, but he hadn't; he _couldn't_. He'd had too much to lose... and Maloney had counted on that. In the end, it had been another form of control and power he'd had over Spencer.

Again, Reid wrapped his arms around himself more tightly, this time smothering the age-old tears before they were born and endeavoring to lull himself to sleep. He just had to stop thinking about Maloney, about the past, about Morgan, and focus on something safe, something that couldn't hurt him. Like statistics- those were always reliable distractions, easy to pull up at the drop of a hat and protect him from the world and, most of all, from himself- from his own thoughts and memories.

He began with statistics and facts related to planes and air-travel, since it was a subject near at hand and most likely to be effective, and took himself through the steps. He felt himself relax a little after five minutes, but Maloney was still at the back of his mind, dancing with Morgan's tearful and angry eyes and the image of Carl Buford- a man just like Maloney. He tried to cover up the faces with another statistic, followed by another, then began reciting the numbers of PI.

3.14159...

He was struggling to recall if the 26'th number was an eight or a three and was just starting to lose himself in the problem and the beginnings of a light doze when a familiar voice abruptly ripped him back to reality once more.

"Mind if I sit?" Gideon asked, causing the younger man to jolt upright to full alertness and look at Gideon in surprise and confusion.

It took a second for Reid's mind to catch up to the situation and for Gideon's request to be processed before he nodded mutely. He would rather be alone right now, but he didn't want to appear to be out of sorts- something the gifted profiler would easily pick up on and piece together. Besides, he liked Gideon's company and it might be distracting, just as long as they didn't start rehashing the case.

"Go ahead." Reid replied, glancing at the seat across from him, which Gideon promptly slid into. Reid drew himself up straighter and waited nervously for the other man to speak while affecting small fleeting smiles to dispel his own tension and worry; if there was one thing Reid didn't like about Jason Gideon, it was the feeling that he was an open book whenever he was with him.

Gideon glanced out the window, taking his time as usual and seeming unconcerned with the stretching silence. Outside, the sky had darkened, turning the clouds into mountains of navy velvet overlaying a blackened world below. On a better day, it would have been beautiful but, tonight, it was somber and lonely and Reid had no desire to look at it except to see his mood reflected. Instead, he kept staring at Gideon and patiently- or impatiently but obediently- waiting for him to begin.

Finally, Gideon turned back to his protégé, a sad and tired smile softly touching his features. "Tough case." he stated simply.

Reid swallowed and nodded, relieved that the silence had been broken at last and that he had a way to divert attention away from his own unease and concerns. "You never really thought Morgan did it, did you?" he asked quietly, sure he already knew the answer but wanting to hear it anyway.

"Of course not." Gideon replied. "We both know him- we know what kind of man he is and what kind of man he's not- and he's not a child killer." he asserted with conviction.

Happy, this time Reid's faint smile was genuine, but it quickly faltered again. "But if this had just been another case- and we didn't know Morgan- do you think we would have ended up sending the wrong man to prison?"

Gideon shook his head. "If this had been another case and it got to that point, Morgan would have talked, would have told us about Buford. No man is that desperate to keep his past hidden." he concluded.

The statement made Reid uncomfortable as he wondered if that was really true- if he would ever tell anyone about Maloney if he was in Morgan's position- and he broke eye contact, shifting quickly to cover up the reaction. He hoped Gideon hadn't noticed... "Then, you don't think we've ever gotten the wrong person?" he pressed, taking another moment before he was able to look up at Gideon again.

"We can only do our best." Gideon replied honestly. "We do our job, we give the profile, we follow where it leads us, we check it and recheck it- but it's always possible to make mistakes."

That wasn't very reassuring and it was obvious Gideon knew it.

"All I can say- the best anyone can say- is that I've never put away anyone I didn't _absolutely _believe to be guilty." Gideon went on, putting emphasis on the last part. "We don't decide everything and, if they're not guilty, then hopefully that will come out in the trial. We can't let our faith in the profiles be shaken." he encouraged sagely.

Reid nodded, placated even if not entirely comforted and knowing he was right, but there was a knot in his chest as he thought about Maloney and that horrible night and he again glanced down at his lap. After all, he wasn't really bothered by the case or the chance that their profiles could lead them to the wrong person, but he didn't dare to speak the truth or tell Gideon what was really on his mind. By the stretching silence, however, it was clear that that was exactly what the other man was waiting for- probably what he'd come over there in the first place for- and Reid knew he had to say something.

There _was_ something Reid wanted to ask- a question burning in his mind like acid, one that was very old and that he'd asked himself a thousand times, but was still unresolved and was nagging him once more. But he didn't want Gideon to know the truth...

Finally, Reid licked his lips, drawing a breath. "Do you think-" he hesitated, momentary panic stalling his thoughts as he second-guessed himself for a split second. He regathered himself- rallying his courage and telling himself he could do this- and began again, getting it out slowly and with difficulty as he tried to make it sound innocent. "Do you think... that Morgan will ever get over what happened? What Carl Buford did to him?" he wondered, forcing the question out and at last managing to look Gideon in the eye. His heart was pounding and his chest was tight, and Reid was almost as afraid that the insightful profiler might somehow see through him as he was of what the answer might be.

Gideon shrugged casually- apparently missing or misreading his friend's apprehension, much to Reid's surprise and relief. "He's done well so far- look at how far he's come, what he chose to do with his life." he pointed out. With admiration and affection, he continued to reason to the younger agent. "Helping save lives and stopping criminals, doing good; Morgan hasn't let Buford define his life or who he is, and he hasn't let Buford stop him from achieving his goals. Whatever scars or problems he still has to work on, we shouldn't doubt he's capable of overcoming them... not if we believe in him."

Reid's eyes dropped as he listened, trying to assess if the words could apply to him as well. A bittersweet smile tentatively crossed his lips as he decided he'd done okay with his life- maybe not great and certainly not perfectly, but he'd done okay. That was something to feel good about, wasn't it? Morgan hadn't let Buford stop him from joining the BAU or pursuing any of the careers he'd had before that; likewise, Reid had managed to get through college and earn the doctorates he'd wanted in the amount of time he'd wanted and had gotten into the BAU as he'd always planned as soon as he was eligible. That wasn't being defeated by the past or having his life dictated by people like Maloney who'd hurt him; that was something else, something that required strength...

"Do _you_ believe in him?"

Reid looked up at Gideon sharply, the question having taken him by surprise as he'd fallen into his own musings, and- as he stared at Gideon- he knew the other man wasn't doubting his faith in Morgan; just quizzing him, as he often did. All the same, Reid took a moment to consider his answer- for both himself and Morgan- before slowly nodding with a small but true smile.

"Yeah, I do." he replied.

Gideon smiled back approvingly at him. "Then don't worry." he stated softly, the matter seemingly closed to him. "If and when he needs us, we'll be here for him."

There was a pull of warmth and hope in Reid's heart, although he feared to put full stock in Gideon's assurances, but for the moment he chose to accept the comfort and believe in it. A wave of fatigue hit him suddenly and he realized how truly tired he was, Maloney's memory still circling his mind restlessly but weakening enough now to allow the young man to sag in his seat. Reid's gaze darted quickly about the cabin at the other members of team, most of which were by now curled up under blankets sleeping, and the desire to be alone returned to him.

Licking his lips, he regarded Gideon again. "I think I'm going to try to get some sleep." he announced warmly, reflecting his appreciation to the older profiler as Gideon nodded understandingly.

"Sounds like a good idea." he agreed.

Standing, Gideon patted his shoulder as he passed and Reid's eyes trailed him in surprise as he started to walk toward the back of the plane- _away_ from the seats and tables. "You're not going to get some rest?" he guessed.

"No," Gideon confirmed, pausing to glance at his younger team mate with a mischievous grin, "there's coffee calling my name."

Befuddled, Reid turned back around in his seat as Gideon reached the mini kitchenette area and poured himself a cup, wondering at the atypical behavior… but maybe Gideon was more rattled by the case then he was letting on. Or maybe he just wasn't tired. Reid sighed, giving up on finding an explanation as exhaustion rolled over him, knowing how hard Gideon could be to predict or understand sometimes and lacking the energy or will to sort through it now, and slouched down.

Yet, as tired as he was and as much as he longed for the arms of sleep to envelope him, his mind remained racing and his heart remained plagued, despite Gideon's assurances. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, he looked out the window at the clouds and tried to see something other than the darkness he feared and beyond the fall that only those who learned how to fly could survive. Reid shoved thoughts of Maloney back into the corner of his mind, but the struggle to keep him there was taxing, and he stared out at the clouds that passed so slowly...

Minutes later or hours later, he finally drifted off into a weary sleep, his eyes closing as the jet soared high above the world that had hurt him.


	2. Epitaph

**All standard author's notes and disclaimers apply.**

**Again, there's a flashback of the rape, which is marked with an asterisk if you want to skip it. **

**This takes place during _Memoriam_, after the case is solved and before Reid returns to Quantico.**

**Epitaph**

A breeze pulled through Reid's wavy locks hanging just above his shoulders, tossing them gently as he stood motionless in the quiet cemetary. There were hundreds of rows of granite and marble headstones, many belonging to the rich and famous entrapeunures of Las Vegas and others belonging to the meager and unexceptional working class, a few that were relatives of Reid's and one that was Riley Jenkins. But it wasn't Riley Jenkins' grave he stood at, nor was it Ethan Hayes', though the fresh mound that his body lay under was visible in the distance.

Reid's jaw clenched rythmically as he stared at the polished white marble embossed with ornate gold fillagree, words long ago memorized and dismissed as falacy flowing beneath it, but he hardly saw the stone at all. While his body might be at the cemetary, his mind was circling around the events of the last several days- or perhaps the last twenty-three years would be more correct- trying to make sense of it and put it all in order. So many things were not what he'd thought they were, there were so many more complexities to the life and death of his family than he'd ever known before, things about his father he hadn't wanted to believe. It was so much easier to be angry at him and to blame him for everything that had happened after he'd left; forgiving was difficult.

Letting go was even harder.

Pain inflicted decades ago resonated in every molocule of Reid's body, drained and weary by a lifetime's struggle and the sudden and unexpected closure he was struggling to come to terms with. Everything was connected to everything else and the ramifications of this new bit of history was disconcerting and confusing. Gary Michaels raped and killed Riley Jenkins; Lou Jenkins killed Gary Michaels; William Reid covered up his wife's involvement; William's guilt led him to abandon his wife and son; his son was brutalized and raped by a school bully. The symetry begged for some kind of significance but Spencer knew there was none. They'd somehow come full-circle and he hadn't been prepared for the revelations or the closure from his past, as staggering as its form was.

It all seemed so futile; the past couldn't be changed and the future had been made from its ashes. There was no reason or logic for the things that had happened- none that could be fought, anyway- and that was difficult to accept for an accademic. Perhaps even more so for a son or a helpless little boy. Reid felt both better and worse for the things he'd discovered the last few days, on one hand having the answers he'd needed for so long but on the other hand those answers shook his previous conceptions about his father, his family's downfall, and himself to the core. His self-image had always been marred by his abandonement and by what Mark Maloney had done to him and now it seemed, in many ways, that he was seeing himself for the first time.

He didn't know quite what to think about what he saw, but he was relieved to realize that person didn't have anything to prove. To anyone.

Still, he'd ended up at the cemetary paying his respects- not to the memory of the man whose headstone laid at his feet- but to lost innocence and to remind himself of the victories he had achieved over the tragedies of his life. Death wasn't and would never be something he rejoiced in but knowing he lived and made a difference and hadn't been overcome by the horrors he'd endured while Mark Maloney lay in the ground gave him a sense of vindication. He'd won; he'd keep winning by putting men like Maloney away and Maloney would never hurt another little boy the way he'd hurt Spencer again, silenced and forgotten in his grave by the multitude. It was just as well that the world didn't know the truth about Maloney; there were enough monsters without him.

"Hey," a familiar voice behind Spencer softly called, making him start slightly.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw Morgan walking towards him. "How did you find me?" Reid asked as Morgan sidled next to him.

"You weren't answering your phone. I wanted to make sure you were alright." Morgan stated, hedging his friend's question.

It didn't go unnoticed. However, Spencer was too occupied figuring out just how "alright" he was to reply immediately, not wanting his other thoughts to show. He nodded his head slightly- more to convince himself than Morgan- and swallowed dryly. "I'm fine."

Morgan was clearly skeptical but didn't push it.

Spencer gave a quirked half-smile. "That still doesn't tell me how you found me." he reminded, putting the focus back on Morgan.

"I had Garcia track your cell." the other man admitted.

By-passing the legal ambiguity of the action, Reid looked away and shook his head. "Remind me never to get on her bad side." he quipped softly.

Morgan smiled at the rare bit of humor but sombered quickly when he followed Reid's gaze down to where it had fallen on the headstone. He silently read the name and dates of birth and death but, other than the kid being young, it meant nothing to him and gave him no clue as to why Reid would be visiting the grave. "Did you know him?" he inquired gently, aware it could be a sensitive subject.

Reid hesitated before answering. "We went to highschool together." he informed, his voice monotone to keep any other emotions from filtering in.

Morgan silently observed the tension in his colleague's body. "Were you friends?" he asked.

_Friends?_ Reid's chest heaved and his eyes darkened as he stared at the scrawled name on the headstone, being transported back...

_*Cold and terrified, Spencer shivered as rough, callous fingers combed through his hair. The hand slid down to his cheek and caressed the tears that were trembling from his wide eyes but there was nothing comforting about the touch, and Spencer couldn't refrain a whimper. "Please- please let me go! I want to go home!" But Maloney ignored his pleas and instead strong arms encircled Spencer. "Please!"_

Reid's jaw was clenched almost to the point of breaking but, recalling himself to the present and the question he'd been asked, he forcibly relaxed just enough to answer Morgan. "No." The bitterness was not veiled and, after a moment, he elaborated. "He was a linebacker on the football team."

Morgan knew the significance of that- what the football team had done to Reid as a child- and comprehension dawned with a pang, no further explanation being needed. He glanced back down to the headstone, scrutinizing it for insights on the man who had participated in the cruel prank that had scarred his young friend. He didn't find much but, then again, he hadn't expected to, either; pact mentality was enough to drive even normally decent people to do terrible things.

He returned his attention to Reid, studying his expression and trying to pick out what he was thinking- exactly what had brought him here after the revelations of Riley Jenkins' murder and the confrontation with his father. Was he laying something to rest? Re-evaluating events? Trying to make sense of it all? Or was he simply sinking into the tragedy of things that couldn't be changed? It could have been any one of those things or none of them but, feeling that pushing Reid for information wasn't the right move right now and would only make him clamp up more, Morgan decided to switch topics for the moment.

"I thought you would have been halfway back to Quantico by now." he commented offhandedly.

The corner of Reid's mouth twitched dismissively as he stared with deep intensity at the headstone from beneath a furrowed brow. "I'm catching the next flight out." he answered softly but readily. "I actually have to head to the airport soon for check-in."

It didn't sit well with Morgan that Reid already had an escape plan to avoid Morgan's inquiries but he also knew he couldn't fight it and shrugged, smiling wistfully although it was only for show. "Gotta love commercial flights." he quipped with a grimace.

Reid huffed softly at that and nodded sympathetically. There was a brief silence before he spoke, his thoughts torn between two places and having trouble keeping in the present. "When are you leaving?" he asked, forcibly keeping the conversation safe.

"Tomorrow." Morgan couldn't help but grin, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Rossi's dragging me along to the _America's Got Talent_ show tonight!"

"The what?" Reid repeated, looking up at Morgan for the first time with a baffled expression.

Morgan chuckled, not surprised that Reid didn't know what he was talking about. "_America's Got Talent_?" he restated, giving Reid a chance to recall if he'd ever heard of it. At his silence, Morgan elaborated. "It's a TV variety show; the top acts perform in Vegas after the finale. Turns out Rossi's a huge fan of the runner-up; some pianist singer. But trust me, he didn't get me to go along without some serious _stipulations_!" he added meaningfully.

Reid could only guess what those stipulations were and figured he was better off not knowing. His gaze returned to the headstone and he became somber again as the brief distraction faded along with his interest, his thoughts firmly being pulled back to the past. His chest felt heavy with things unspoken, with the secret weight he found himself suddenly longing to share with Morgan- his best friend and the one person who could truly understand what he'd been through- but his eyes burned knowing he couldn't. He'd never known how to say or tell those things and he didn't want to be identified by what had been done to him- didn't want Mark Maloney to have that power over him- and he shoved his hands deep into his pockets, rocking on his heals uncertainly and biting his lip.

"I've spent my whole life learning everything I possibly could, how everything works and why." he found himself unexpectedly relating out loud, although his voice was barely a whisper. "I thought if I could just learn enough, I could make sense of everything and control my life... But some things don't have answers; somethings can't be changed or prevented."

So many things; his parents, Riley, his mom's illness, death and murder and pain, and Mark Maloney. Reid looked up at Morgan suddenly, his wide bright eyes seeing directly into the other man's dark ones. "And somethings are buried long before they're ever put to rest." he stated. Unbidden tears leaked out and streaked down his cheeks and he turned his head away, ashamed as he swallowed hard and discreately wiped them, though there was no doubt that they'd been seen.

Morgan stared at Reid with shock at his openess and pain clamped his heart for his friend. He knew Reid would be okay- that he was simply processing things- but that didn't stop him from feeling the profoundness of being allowed into this private moment and the inner turmoil of his friend, and he wanted to comfort him, somehow...

Morgan put his hand on Reid's shoulder. "Reid-" he began but stopped himself, realizing that, even though he'd never addressd Reid by his first name, it was no time to be formal. "Spencer-" he started again, the name only slightly strange on his tongue, "what happened was terrible and you have every reason to be confused and hurt and angry. No one is going to begrudge you that or think less of you for anything you're feeling."

Reid didn't respond, still turned to hide the tears he was attempting to control. He knew that what Morgan said was true but he couldn't tell him or anyone about Maloney or admit there was more going on than just his father's failings. His team knew more about him than anyone else ever had and he'd let them in farther than he'd ever let anyone- Morgan in particular was his greatest confidant- and he'd become ever increasingly confident and trusting in his "family"...

But there were some things he'd never tell anyone.

"You are one of the strongest people I know." Morgan continued with admiration and sympathy as he studied the profile of Reid's face and his reactions "But it's in the past. It's over, and you came through it. It can never touch you again."

Reid flinched under Morgan's hand as he heard something else entirely than what was intended but he knew Morgan didn't mean that kind of touch and didn't want Morgan to think that's where his mind had gone. Hoping futily that the other agent hadn't felt the small jerk, he nodded stiffly. "I know." Amazingly, his voice didn't waver and had the steel of conviction in it.

"It was a car accident." Reid stated abruptly, changing the conversation's direction with the desperate need to flee from thoughts of his past torment.

Morgan was confused. "What?"

Reid nodded toward the headstone. "That's how he died. It was two weeks before graduation." _And one week after the football field..._ "He was coming back from a party with a friend. He was completely drunk but the other guy, James Clifford, was sober and was driving when a dog ran into the road. They swerved, lost control, and ended up flipping into a telephone pole. Maloney died within minutes," he related, his voice thick with mixed emotions, recalling how he'd reacted when he'd learned of the accident the next day.

Morgan's stare had remained fixed on Reid throughout the story, more intrigued with _why_ Reid was telling him about his bully's death than with the story itself, and he studied Reid carefully as he listening, hoping for an insight to what he was thinking and, more importantly, feeling. "And the driver?" Morgan prompted him, seeking more information and wondering if Clifford mattered at all in the story or if the focus of it was solely for Maloney.

"He survived but was paralyzed from the waist down." Reid answered succinctly, a hint of regret in his voice. "Ended his football career."

_Interesting_, Morgan thought, that the majority of Reid's contempt was for Maloney and the other jockey recieved little of it despite both having been involved in the same bullying. Maloney must have had a larger role in the torment, a leader and instigator, perhaps, while Clifford was just a lackey.

Again, Morgan glanced down to the headstone. "Must have been a hard thing for him to live with;" he stated sympathetically of the driver, "feeling guilty and responsible for a friend's death, as well as the loss of his dreams."

Reid nodded, indicating he was listening and concurred, but his thoughts were far off as he remembered Maloney's funeral, how he'd waited till after it was over to ride over on his bike. _His chest had been tight with apprehension as he'd stood at the edge of the cementary, staring at the chestnut casket glittering in the sun, still waiting for final burial. He hadn't wanted to be there, but he'd needed to go, to see for himself that Maloney was truly dead and it wasn't some trick, some way of escaping punishment or further terrorizing the young boy. It may not have been logical but, where trauma was involved, logic mattered little._

Reid swallowed hard in present time as his mind flashed back to the moment he'd approached the casket, walking slowly and fearfully, his hand trembling as he reached for the lid. _The colors of the scene were vivid- as striking as if he were there now- and the sound of his shallow, rapid breathing filled his ears as he began to lift the lid, the roses piled ontop of the coffin sliding mindlessly off onto the green grass. The visage of the pale corpse came slowly into view, the lid opening onto the handsome features marred by death, and Spencer's imagination was seized with terrible ideas of Maloney suddenly jumping to life and grabbing him, pulling him into the casket and drawing the lid down to reenact his horrific crime._

_Maloney was dead, but his memory was not and Spencer's arm grew tired, burning from the strain of holding the casket's lid open, but he couldn't bring himself to move, to do anything but stare transfixed on the figure of his nightmares. His monster in the dark..._

_And then suddenly his free arm was grabbed tightly and Spencer jumped in alarm as a gravely voice bellowed, "Hey! What do you think you're doing?" Spencer dropped the lid without thinking and it slammed back down, creating a sharp crack that broke all revery, and he found himself looking up at a scruffy old man in a jumpsuit, his heart pounding anew in fresh fear. "This is a graveyard, not a playground. Have some respect for the dead!" the man shouted._

_His mind rushed with memories of being pinned and held painfully, of being trapped with no hope of escape of the viscious violating attack, and Spencer's terror skyrocketed, adrenaline flooding his body and, with a twist, he freed his arm from the undertaker's grasp and was running, running as fast as he could out of the cementary and to his bike, the undertaker shouting angrilly at him. On his bike, he pedalled hard, harder than he ever had before, and tears leaked from his eyes as the wind whipped past him, the journey home unremembered as he was chased by the dead..._

Pulling himself out of the past, Reid decided he'd been at the graveyard long enough and that he needed to be on his way to the airport. He wasn't sure what he'd hoped to gain from this visit or if he'd been successfull, but he was tired and didn't want to think about it anymore, didn't want to think at all, and Reid turned to Morgan.

The older profiler knew what was coming but Reid didn't want him to think it was a brush off, so he considered his words briefly before breaking the silence, smiling serenely. "Thanks for coming, Morgan."

Returning the smile, Morgan shrugged and gently slapped his friend's shoulder. "Anytime, kid."

Without further communication, both men turned and began walking out of the cementary together.

**I'm not entirely sure how this works as an ending, but I hope it's okay. I had a larger idea when I came up with the story but I'm pretty certain I'm never going to write it, so things are going to be left a little unresolved. I had this whole plot in my head how, in present time, the team gets a case where a vigilante is murdering pedophiles and Reid runs into Clifford again, who got into cinematography after the accident and seems to be doing pretty well, but of course he turns out to be the unsub. It would have been revealed in the course of this story that Clifford was himself abused and, after accidentally learning what Maloney did and horrified by the idea he'd had a part in it, intentionally crashed the car, killing Maloney. And, of course, the team would have finally found out about Reid's past. But, I'm not writing that- so is telling you this really nice or really, **_**really**_** mean?**

**Please review!**


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